The Marriage
by Quesnar
Summary: Spain is very vague, and Romano makes assumptions. Chaos ensues. One-shot, could be read as Spamano.


The Marriage

 **I do not own Hetalia.**

Romano was reading on the couch when Spain rudely burst into the room.

"Oi! Bastard! Knock before you barge in!"

"Oh! Sorry," He said automatically, before pausing. "Wait, but this is the living room..."

"So?" The small Italian shot back.

Spain gave him a queer look, then shook his head and dismissed the issue. "... Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that I'm heading out. See you later?"

"Sure, whatever," Romano muttered, looking back at the page. But then he glanced up again. "Where are you going, bastard?"

"Austria's house," was the reply.

"Why the fuck are you going there?"

"Oh! Didn't I tell you?" The happy Spaniard said. "We're making the wedding plans."

...

"WHAT?!"

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Goddamn it, why didn't I hear about this?!" Romano demanded.

"Uh, well, you guys don't really get along..."

"SO?! You should have told me!"

"I just did!"

"Earlier, dammit!"

"Why are you so upset?!"

"Because... Because... this wedding is bad news!"

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I know it!"

"You can't know that!"

"Yes, I can! Are you aware of how many divorces Austria has had with other nations?!"

"But they're different!"

"And don't you remember what happened when you and that bastard had your... Falling out? It was pretty much a fucking war!"

"Oh, Roma, is that what you're worried about? There's not going to be a war. He's not even a nation anymore."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah? Geez, Roma, this is old news."

"No one ever told me! How was I supposed to fucking know?!"

"You could have talked to him! You had plenty of opportunities."

"... You're right."

"Yes, I am-... Wait what?"

"You're right." Romano got a determined gleam in his eye. "I should talk to him. Now. I'm going with you!"

"Roma, you can't just invite yourself-" Spain tried.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm going!"

The ride over was tense and quiet. Spain was trying to figure out what set the feisty Italian off, and Romano was stewing in his anger. When the car finally arrived at the finely manicured mansion, he wasted no time in charging in straight to the salon, Spaniard in tow. He flung open the double doors to find Austria, Prussia, and France chattering over tea.

"Oh, Spain! And, Romano? What are you-" France started to say.

"Shut up!" Romano turned to Austria. "You can't get married!"

"And why not?" Austria asked, a spark of anger lighting in his eyes.

"Because it's wrong!" Romano insisted.

"Romano, I know you're a Catholic nation, but this is taking it too far!" Prussia chimed in.

"No, not because of that!" The Italian scowled. "It's just fucking wrong, I don't like it! You can't get married!"

"That's not your decision!" Austria protested.

"Shut it! I can decide whatever the fuck I want, and you two can't be together!"

"I can marry whoever I want!"

"But not if it's Spain!" Romano yelled.

A silence pursued, and Romano self-consciously noticed that everyone was looking at him in confusion.

France was the first to figure it out. "Ah, Romano, cheri, there's been a misunderstanding. Austria's not marrying Spain."

"... He's not?"

"Non, he's marrying Prussia."

"Oh." Romano let that sink in, before turning abruptly and heading back out the doors. "Well, then, do whatever the fuck you want. I don't care," he called out over his shoulder as he exited the room.

"Wait, Roma!" Spain ran out after him.

Silence once again returned to the room, before Prussia broke it with a snort. "So the kid does care after all."

"So it seems," France's lips twitched into a smirk. "You owe me 50 euros."

"Romano, wait up!"

The Italian resignedly slowed his pace for the straggling Spaniard. "What is it, bastard?"

"I wanted to say sorry. For, you know, not making it clear about the wedding." Spain answered nervously.

"You'd better be sorry." Romano scoffed. They fell quiet as they made their way together to the front door.

"Hey, Roma?" Spain asked suddenly. "Why were you so upset about the idea of me getting married?"

Romano scowled. "Because, tomato bastard, uh... that would mean you would be spending more time with Austria than you would spend making me food. That's not okay."

"Oh, okay." Spain then smiled brightly. "I'm glad you feel that way!"

Romano looked at him weirdly, before shaking his head and responding, "You sure are strange. Come on, bastard, let's go home."

And in that way, a whole big fuss was made over nothing, and the wedding plans were left for another day.

 **A/N: Mmhm, yup. There's a one-shot for you. Please, leave some reviews for me!**


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